


Welcome! Everything is Fine

by UnforgivableSpelling



Category: Andi Mack (TV), The Good Place (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26810887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnforgivableSpelling/pseuds/UnforgivableSpelling
Summary: When T.J. Kippen dies and lands in an afterlife paradise reserved for only the most ethical people, he realizes he's been mistaken for someone else.
Relationships: Amber/Iris (Andi Mack), Buffy Driscoll/Marty, Cyrus Goodman/T. J. Kippen, Jonah Beck/Andi Mack, Rebecca "Bex" Mack/Bowie Quinn
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

I open my eyes. In front of me, a white wall, with only the words "Welcome! Everything is fine." Looking around, I see a door to my left, and little else. Despite the unfamiliar setting, I can't help but smile. Somehow, this feels right.

An Asian woman who looks to be in her mid-50s opens the door and gestures to me, "Thelonius? Come on in."

I follow the woman through the door into an office. A photo of a lady that is decidedly _not_ the woman who takes a seat in front of me hangs on the side. I sit in the other seat.

"Hi, I'm Celia. How are you today?"

"I'm great, thanks for asking," I answer automatically, "Oh, one question. Where am I? Who are you, and what's going on?"

"Right. So, you, Thelonius Jaeger Kippen, are dead."

"Oh, I go by TJ," I interrupt.

"Okay, TJ, you are dead. Your life on Earth has ended, and you are now in the next phase of your existence in the universe."''

"Cool. Cool. I have some questions."

"Thought you might," she chuckles.

"How did I die? I don't remember."

"Yes, um, in cases of traumatic or embarrassing deaths, we erase the memory to allow for a peaceful transition. Are you sure you want to hear?" she explains and I nod, "All right, so you were in the parking lot of a Lakers game, and an angry Midwest Molecules mob was protesting and you got caught in the fray."

"I see..." I answer. At least it was basketball related, "Um, so who was right? I mean, about all of this?"

"Well, let's see. Hindus, Jains, Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, every religion guessed about 5%, except for Terri Minsky."

"The director/producer?" I say, realizing why the picture wasn't that unfamiliar.

"Yeah. She was pitching this show on the afterlife about 10 years ago to someone at some party in Salt Lake City and she got like 92% correct. We couldn't believe what we were hearing! That's her picture on the wall. She's pretty famous around here, and not just for her work. I'm very lucky to have that."

"So, maybe my biggest question. Am I in heaven or hell?" I ask bluntly.

"Well, it's not the heaven-or-hell idea you were raised on. In the afterlife, there's a Good Place, and there's a Bad Place. And you, TJ Kippen, are in The Good Place."

"Well, that's good," I say with a sigh of relief.

"Sure is," she laughs, "Okay, let's take a walk, shall we?"

I get up from my seat, "Oh, did I have a knapsack? Oh right, I'm dead."

We walk out into the streets, and I see places like _Infinite Light_ , _Your Anticipated Needs_ , and the _Small Adorable Animal Depot_ , "So here's how it works. The Good Place is divided into distinct neighborhoods, each of which contains exactly 322 people who have been perfectly selected to blend together in blissful harmonic balance."

"Do all the neighborhoods look like this?"

"No. Some are warm, some are cold, some cities, some farms. But in each one, every blade of grass, every cloud, every detail has been designed to match with our residents by an Architect, and in this neighborhood, that's me."

"There are a _lot_ of milkshake, burger, and baby tater places," I notice. Specifically, each place having a combination of the three.

"Yeah. That's the one thing we put in every neighborhood. People seem to love that classic diner combination, especially since there's so many ways that they can be done to cater to every person's need."

I guess it's good I spent so much time at The Spoon...

"I know you probably have a million questions. For right now, better grab a seat, the movie's about to begin," she says, gesturing to some sort of outdoor theatre.

I take a seat in a fold up chair between two other guys, finding it just as comfortable as the plush armchairs at the best movie theatre in Shadyside. Celia appears on the screen, "Hello everyone, and welcome to your first day in the afterlife! You are all, simply, good people. But how did we know that you were good people? During your time on Earth, every single one of your actions had a positive or negative point value. Depending on how much good or bad, that value is inputted into the universe. Every muffin you ate, every time you read a magazine, every single thing you did had an effect that rippled out over time and ultimately created some amount of good or bad. You know how some people pull into the breakdown lane when there's traffic? They think to themselves that no one is watching, but we are. When your time on Earth has ended, we calculate the total value of your life, using our perfectly accurate points system. Only the people with the highest scores make it to the Good Place, and that includes all of you. What happens to everyone else? Don't worry about it. You are here because you lived one of the very best lives that could be lived. And, you won't be alone. That's right. Your true soulmate, that's right, they're real, are here too. One of the other people in this audience is your _actual_ soulmate. You will find your true soulmate, and you will spend eternity together. So welcome to eternal happiness. Welcome to the Good Place, sponsored by cats giving eskimo kisses to each other. That's right, you know that feeling when you see cats giving eskimo kisses to each other? That's how you're going to feel everyday here."

The others, likely having arrived before me, leave. Celia finds me and we continue the tour, "So, who's in the Bad Place that would shock me?"

"Ah! Well, Mozart, Picasso, Elvis, basically every artist, every US President except Lincoln."

"Sounds about right. What about Florence Nightengale?"

"That was close, but no dice. She didn't have enough points."

"Wow, all those amazing people down there..." I say, puzzled.

"Again, it's an incredibly selective system. Most people don't make it here. But you, a lawyer who advocated for young children to get a second chance, you're special, TJ," she answers. Wait a second, I wasn't a lawyer, "And by the way, welcome to your new home."

We turn to see a relatively small house, decorated in an ironic color scheme, "Every residence has been designed to meet the exact needs and desires of each resident."

"Ah, so that's why I'm living in this cozy cottage, while others live in that," I say, pointing to the gargantuan mansion right next door.

"Exactly," she says with a smile.

We walk in. It's relatively nice, with the bedroom and bathroom up on a sort of lofted area (with no stairs, weird), a patio with a blue wall, a small sofa, and a kitchen. What really stands out to me is the walls sort of covered with numbers in different patterns.

"As you see, this house is done in your preferred primitive Icelandic style," she explains, "Oh, and of course, you love numbers, so..."

"I _do_ love numbers," I say, hoping I don't sound like I'm lying.

We walk back to the ledge, and a screen appears, showing some memories I recognize and others I definitely don't, "Now here's where you can review every memory you have in first person. This is your mission to a juvenile detention center where Navajo, Cherokee, and Apache Native American children were unfairly being held, where you not only got them to be freed but also made sure their reservations received proper food, water, education, and shelter. You got a ton of points for that one, it really put you over the top."

I hear a knock on the door, "Cyrus, come on in!"

I turn to see a lanky but most definitely cute man come in, "TJ? I'm Cyrus Goodman, and you are my soulmate."

I gulp. I wasn't exactly _out_ on Earth. But if a man is my soulmate, maybe it's okay? I smile, "Cool! Bring it in, man!"

We have a relatively awkward hug. Celia excuses herself, "If you'll excuse me, I have others to attend to."

We take a seat on the couch once Celia leaves, "So, Cyrus, where are you from?"

"I was born in Israel while my parents were living there for work reasons, raised in Houston, and I went to Columbia University, but work took me all over the place, India, Japan, Australia," he explains, "What about you?"

"Well, I was born and raised in Shadyside, Midwest, and then I went to university in Midwest City, Midwest, and then I moved back to Shadyside, Midwest."

"Oh yeah. My parents got divorced when I was 14, and my dad moved to Shadyside," he says.

"Cool," I say. I do remember a Goodman, but I think he was a doctor? Or a therapist?

"Fun fact, this place takes whatever you say, and translates it into a language the other person can understand. Cool, right?" He asks and I nod, "And now, I want to say this. TJ, I have spent my entire life in pursuit of ethics and human right advocacy, and now we can actually learn about it together, as soulmates. It's overwhelming."

"Cyrus, you'll stand by my side no matter what, right?"

"Of course I will," he answers, confused by the question.

"Promise me. Say 'I promise, I'll never betray you for any reason,'" I ask.

"TJ, I swear, that I will never say or do anything to betray you."

"Good, because those aren't my memories. I wasn't a lawyer. I never went to a reservation, let alone Juvie. I have dyscalculia, so numbers aren't my best friend. There's been a _big mistake_. I'm not supposed to be here."

"Wait, what?" he says in shock. I let him process, as we exit the house and go to one of the diners. We sit outside with milkshakes and a basket of baby taters, "Wait, are you actually into males?"

"Yeah, I'm gay. I just was never _out_ on Earth, so I hoped at least that would be right."

"Are you _sure_ that this isn't you?" he asks.

"Yeah man, I'm sure I wasn't a child-justice lawyer who helped advocate for improvement in reservation life. But that would have been cool to do. Rights are Rights. They got my name right, but nothing else. They royally forked up. I mean forked. Why can't I say fork?"

"If you're trying to curse, you can't. I guess a lot of people in this neighborhood don't like it, so it's prohibited."

"That's bullshirt," I protest, but lose my anger at the taste of my milkshake, fittingly flavored _Coming Out for the first time_. It tastes like blueberry macadamia.

"So if you're not this person, then who are you? What did you do for a living?"

"I was...a gym instructor."

"Like a gym teacher?"

"No, like I would teach classes at gyms and occasionally help out at the children's gym," I explain.

He sighs, "So not _all_ bad."

"Now that I think about it though, there may have been some enhancement drugs that were being sold there. At the regular gym, not the kids gym. Because people were getting in shape way faster than normal. I thought it was a sign I was succeeding, but maybe not?"

"That _is_ unethical but you weren't involved. But you did work there. Gah, I'm getting a stomachache," he says. He takes a long sip of the milkshake, and calms, "Maybe it's a test. Maybe you go to Celia, you tell her the truth, and you'll pass the test and you'll get to stay."

"No way. I can't risk going to the Bad Place."

"Okay, maybe it's not _all_ that bad. Let's get some information first. I know, let's ask Rebecca," he says, "Rebecca!"

An Asian woman, likely in her early 30s, _bings_ in next to our table. She wears a blue powersuit, and sports a polite but definitely painted smile, "Hi there, how can I help you?"

"Ah!" I yelp, "What the fork? Who are you?"

"I'm Rebecca, but you can also call me Bex. Though don't call me Bex to summon me because I won't hear it. I'm the informational assistant here in the Good Place."

"She's like this walking database. She knows everything that has happened, is happening, and will happen in the universe. You can ask her about anything, like-"

"Oh, there was this guy who lived on my dorm floor in Midwest State, Augustus Delfiggio? Was he gay?"

"Yes, and he was definitely into you," she answers.

"Score," I say. If only I was brave enough to come out.

"Okay, Rebecca, I have a question. What is the Bad Place like?"

"That is the one thing I am not authorized to tell you about. But I can play you a brief audio clip of what's happening down there," she says. She opens her mouth and all we can hear are terrorizing screams.

"Well, it doesn't sound awesome," I say, putting down my milkshake.

We finish our taters and get refills on our milkshakes to go. We start walking around and I see several mansions, "Does everyone have a huge house except me?"

I see Cyrus tense so I change the subject, "Alright. We need a new plan. I say we just lie low and hope that no one notices I don't belong."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can help you. I just don't like being dishonest, and I can't advise you to be dishonest, either."

"C'mon, I'm just asking you to fudge a little bit! You must have told a few little white lies in your life. I mean, what was your job?"

"I was a political activist supporting Democratic and Liberal leaders, but transitioned into human rights activism. Taught at NYU as a professor of ethics and morality for a few years."

"Mother forker!" I protest. He's literally the perfect guy and he's stuck with me.

"There's that stomachache again. This is awful. I think I have to tell Celia," he says.

"Tell me what?" she says, arriving with quite a few people my age and two who look more like Rebecca's age.

"Celia! Hi! What have you been up to?" I ask, deflecting.

"TJ Kippen, Cyrus Goodman, I'd like you to meet soulmate pairs Jonah Beck and Andi Mack, Iris Lovarch and Amber Kipnis, Buffy Driscoll and Marty McCalister, and Patricia Gaines and Steven Garrett. Steven converted to Buddhism in his 20s after an enlightening experience and became a monk that took a vow of silence that he still maintains today. Jonah and Andi are your next-door neighbors."

Each person says hi and waves. Andi, who's definitely got a bright personality, introduces herself, "Hi, can I just say I love your house? I _adore_ the arts, and before I got into charity work, I used to do a lot of artwork. If I didn't live in that mansion, I'd love to paint those walls."

"Jonah and Andi are throwing a welcome party tonight, and they've invited the entire neighborhood," Celia explains.

"I simply adore entertaining, don't I Jonah?" she asks, and Jonah nods.

Cyrus and I go to our respective residences, and I find that while computers aren't really a thing, electronic devices are, so I ask for a Switch with NBA games, spending the entire afternoon playing them.

When it's getting dark outside, I peer into the closet and find a black suit with a blue dress shirt and black tie. I change into it, surprised to see how comfortable the ensemble is. On the shoe rack by the door, a pair of dress shoes await. I slip on a pair of black socks and put on the shoes. By the time I'm done, Cyrus is at the door, wearing a blue suit with a white shirt and black tie. Thankfully, we don't match.

We enter Jonah and Andi's mansion, and I gasp in jealous awe at the foyer, "My entire house could fit in this room."

"Okay, uh...help me out here. Tell me one good thing you did on Earth."

"I helped my teammate start a girl's basketball team at our middle school."

"That's good, but wasn't she, I'm presuming, already on your team?"

"Yeah, but she joined because there wasn't a girl's team, and I was jealous of her talent, so I encouraged her to start her own by giving her the cold shoulder through the season," I shrug. 

"At least you weren't sexist?" he says, at a loss for what to say.

"Never. That's shirty behavior. Anyways, these people might be 'good', but are they really that much better than me?" I say.

We walk around the room and quickly find that I was completely wrong, "Oh, forget it. Heading to the bar!"

Celia taps on her glass as I find a drink, "Thank you, thank you. You all know that I am the architect of this neighborhood, but what you don't know is...gosh, I shouldn't be telling you this...but oh, what the heck? This is the first neighborhood I've ever designed. I've been an apprentice for over 200 years, and my boss has finally given me my first solo project."

The crowd applauds, and I see Rebecca with a tray of muffins, including blueberry macadamia. Cyrus politely takes a chocolate chocolate chip muffin, but I stop her before she walks away, "Hold on there. Let me get more of them muffins."

I take a handful, "Easy, TJ."

"What, they're for everyone," I protest, taking another.

"Exactly."

"And you deserve a perfect world because every single one of you is a good person," Celia says, and it feels like she's looking right at me. I take a long sip from my drink as Celia turns it over to Andi.

"Bravo, Celia, bravo! And I'd just like to say, if any of you would like to play tennis tonight, there's 36 regulation grass tennis courts out back," she says with a happy smile.

"Andi, what a condescending bench. Why does she sound so posh? I don't think Californians are _that_ regal, unless they're from Beverly Hills. She's choosing to talk like that. Oh _hello_ , I'm such a beautiful, artistic, utterly perfect dachshund."

"Oh, okay, okay. It's time to go home," Cyrus says. I guess I had a _bit_ too much to drink.

We make our way back. I throw off my shoes as soon as I enter, "Hello, creepy house that I hate. Hello, numbers that will definitely give me a headache if I stare at them too long. Why aren't there stairs here?"

I pull off my suit jacket and toss it onto the couch, then knock some random trinkets off the ledge and climb up. As I do, a muffin falls out of my pocket, but right side up. I pick it up and take a bite. Cyrus stares, "Did you fill your pockets with muffins?"

"Yes...whatever. It's freakin' heaven. I'm sure they have plenty of muffins," I say as I walk to the bed, "That Andi is a real butthead, huh? And Jonah doesn't seem to care at all. Like he's just as silent as Steven."

"Found some pajamas," Cyrus says, and I realize he followed me up and opened my closet. 

He starts to walk back down, "Cyrus, Cyrus, Cyrus?"

He turns back around and I continue, "I'm sorry that you had to deal with this."

"It's okay," he says quietly.

"It's not, though. Do you think anybody cared that I died? Maybe someone did. I don't know. I was an only child. I grew up with a single dad, and I started working at the children's gym when I was 13 to help make ends meet in the house. Dad died when I was 25, and I haven't seen my mother since I was 7. All my friends growing up had moved out of Shadyside and we only met a few times a year, and I mostly met with colleagues. I bet more people cared that you died, because you're a nice person. You're a nice person, Cyrus Goodman."

"Thanks," he says, and despite his misgivings about me, I see he turns a little red.

"Good night," I say, settling into my pillow. I don't want to change in front of him.

"Good night," he says, easily jumping off the ledge.

Once he leaves, I quickly change, brush and floss unnecessarily, and sleep.

I wake up to commotion. I look out the window and see forks, flying clouds, a giant ladybug, huge blueberry muffins flying in the air, and random gym objects. I run into the main area of the neighborhood to find Cyrus, and run past larger than average dachshunds. I see that he is wearing a green and red striped outfit like everyone else, "Cyrus, what's going on? Why is everyone wearing green and red?"

"You're not," he says, and I realize I'm still wearing the Midwest Law t-shirt and shorts, "You're the only one who's not. TJ, this is all happening because of you."

"Oh, fork me," I sigh.

We get back inside, "Okay, we don't know this is because of me."

"TJ, this place is a perfectly made Swiss watch, and you are a wrench in the gears. Actually, you're a hammer, just smashing the gears to dust."

"Oh, hang on. Not everyone here is perfect, okay? Andi is totally condescending, Jonah's way too agreeable, and there are a couple of, you know, chunksters."

"Oh, c'mon!" he says, sitting in a chair.

"No judgement. I'm just saying, I'm not the only one with flaws. How can we be sure this is my fault?"

"You hugged the muffins, and now there's muffins flying around. You called Andi a Dachshund, and now there are Dachshunds everywhere."

"Okay fine, turns out there are many ways to know it was me."

"Let's just face it, TJ, you don't belong here."

"Well, then, this system sucks. What, one in a million gets to live in paradise and the rest go to hell for eternity? C'mon, I mean, I wasn't freaking RBG, but I was okay. I was a medium person. I should get to spend eternity in a medium place! Like Salt Lake City. Everyone who wasn't perfect but wasn't terrible should get to spend eternity in Salt Lake City."

"Look, apparently it doesn't work that way. I'm sorry, TJ, but there's nothing anyone can do."

"Unless, there _is_ something you can do. Unless you could teach me."

"Teach you what?"

"How to be a better person. That was your job, right? Professor of ethics and a human rights activist? No one knew I was a problem when I arrived. Things only started getting crazy after I was an ash-hole to everyone at the party. Give me a chance. Let me earn my place here. Let me be your ethical guinea pig."

A knock sounds on the door, and Celia's voice calls out, "Hey guys, emergency neighborhood meeting, now!"

"We'll be right there, Celia!" I answer, then turn to Cyrus, "If I walk out there in these clothes, I'm toast."


	2. Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TJ wants Cyrus to teach him to become a good person, so he insists that TJ participate in the neighborhood cleanup instead of learning how to fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!

"I don't know what to do here. This is...this is a mess," Cyrus stammers, pacing back and forth in the living room, "Morally speaking, this is a putrid, disgusting bowl of ethical soup."

"Is soup really _ever_ disgusting?"

"When it's watery. That's not the point," he says, sinking into the uncomfortable sofa.

"Well, how about we just chill, and go to the town meeting and talk it out after? Great. How can I summon that helper person? Magical robot? Not-a-secretary lady?"

"Excuse me, Rebecca?"

"Hi there! And Cyrus, you can call me Bex," the virtual assistant person says, bing-ing in, wearing the same blue/black pattern but in the same style as her flight-attendant wear.

"Yeah, it feels weird to call someone with as much knowledge as yourself by a nickname," he shrugs.

"Alright then. What did you need, TJ?"

"Quick question. Can anyone access what we request from you?"

"It is 100% confidential. No one can access what you ask me, not even Celia. Now, what kind of coming out video do you want to see?"

"No no no, not a coming out video," I protest. I watched those when I was alive to get inspiration to come out myself, but I could never find the courage, "I need clothes, like Cyrus', with the stripes."

Bex suddenly holds out a pair, "There you go."

"Thanks Bex," I answer.

We all gather in Andi's mansion. Everyone's wearing striped suits that resemble their regular outfits but with the stripes, even Steven, who's monk clothes don't really fit with the color scheme. Even though her clothes are bichromatic, 

Once everyone's in the foyer, Celia addresses us, "Obviously, there's something wrong with this neighborhood. We don't know what it is, how long it will last, or what caused it."

"We do know where it happened," Bex says, "Here."

"Yes, thank you, Rebecca. The chaos happened here. See, that's the trouble with these 'perfect' systems. One little flaw can lead to...well it can lead to Gary over there," he says. We look over at Gary, who looks like an abstract painting in the face. He awkwardly waves, "Hi Gary, hang in there, buddy."

"Celia, look!" Andi says, her clothes turning into a far more casual than normal outfit with paint splatters. But she seems vastly more comfortable in them.

"Okay, that's a good sign. It could mean this is almost over," Celia says, looking relieved.

"Oh, such a relief!" Buffy says.

An hour later, Cyrus and I return to my house, both of us back in more normal clothes. It's an utter travesty that there's a lack of hoodies in my wardrobe.

"Okay, so things are settling down outside. I think it's time to...make me good, partner. How do we do it?" I ask, stepping down from the bedroom and towards the table, where Cyrus is studying something, "Is there a pill I could take? Where did you get a chalkboard?"

"It's the Good Place, you can get anything you want at any time," he says.

"And you chose a chalkboard? Wouldn't something like a whiteboard or a Smart Board be more useful? What are you reading?" I ask, sitting down in a chair once I clear some books off of it.

"The Metaphysics of Morals, by Immanuel Kant," he says, holding up a book.

"Question. Do _any_ of these mention homosexuality in a positive way?"

"I had to read some of the books on it while studying, but you are right. There are no books written by philosophers of old with positive views on homosexuality, at least that are easily accessible. I avoid teaching those topics because why is that one of few subjects which are treated better?"

"God, you're perfect. Sure, we're vastly different people but I am truly grateful that even if I don't belong here, I was paired with a soulmate who is attracted to men like me. If I was paired with a woman," I shudder.

"Thanks," he says, with a small smile.

"Isn't that a treatise on the aesthetic preconditions of the mind's receptivity to duty?" I ask.

"Yes...how did you know that?"

"I was a philosophy minor in college. I dropped it because of a bad experience with the dean of the department, and I'd blocked the memories away. But when I died, the good ones stayed with me. This was one of them," I shrug.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head, "It's hard. You're the only person, other than my advisor, who knows there was a reason for the drop."

"Alright then. I won't pry. Knowing you have a basis in philosophy helps. This is in essence a book on how to act good."

"Do you think that can help me?"

"I don't know. One hand, aiding and abetting someone who doesn't belong could send me to the Bad Place as well, but on the other hand, you genuinely seem to want to be a good person."

"I know I could have been better as a person. But here, without extenuating circumstances, maybe I can. And whether or not we're meant to be soulmates, I will always appreciate you doing this for me."

"I'll have to think about it. But I do wonder if there was someone meant to be here that you took the place of."

"Honestly, it could have just been a mistake. He did call me by my real name. Maybe they just got my overall 'quality level' mixed up. Please help me, man. I swear I'm worth it."

"Tell me one fact you know about me."

"You have lactose intolerance but you have always risked it for a milkshake," I comment.

"How did you know that?"

"You mentioned you enjoy a bowl of oatmeal with almond milk in the mornings. When we got to the diner, you scanned the menu with a practiced eye, and you ordered a milkshake that definitely would never be dairy-free in life. And you were very relieved to finish it."

"Great observations, but those are deductory. Not something you know about me."

"I do know where you were born, Israel, where you grew up, Houston, where you went to college, NYU. But why touch the surface details when knowing more about a person is more important?"

"It's about knowing _and_ caring about the surface details. To you, it may seem that it's more important to know what's beyond the surface, but people care about the surface details too."

"I can never win. Know the surface details, people want you to go deeper. Know the deeper details, people are affronted that you don't mention the surface details. What's my favorite sport?"

"Basketball."

"Wrong. Baseball. I love playing basketball but I grew up watching and playing baseball. I grew up a Giants fan because my dad loves the Giants and it is the only connection I have to them. I mentioned basketball to you _once_ by saying I played for my college team. Last night, while we were at Andi's party, I asked Bex how the Giants were doing and if any of my favorite players did well because I kept track of their performance every season, right in front of you. But you held on to the basketball thing."

"Everyone, please report to the orientation area, now," Celia says over the intercom.

Silently, we both leave. When we arrive, we sit next to each other on principle.

"Alright, everyone! Let's begin. Things have settled down, whew! So hopefully we're off and running. Welcome to orientation, day two. Now, today we're going to start off with a little something everyone has always wanted to do, flying!"

Everyone applauds.

"Now that you're dead, let's live a little, right?"

"Uh, sorry. Michael, if I...if I might?" Andi asks, standing up, "I was just thinking, amidst all this chaos from earlier today, large parts of this neighborhood were destroyed. Jonah and I thought perhaps some of us could help clean up the debris."

"Well, Andi, it's not really your job to clean up, but I suppose there's no harm if you really want to."

"Wonderful! We'll need around...12 volunteers."

A few of the others, including Pat and Steven, stand up. I whisper, "I can't believe all these people would rather clean up than fly. Have fun, nerds! I'll be soaring through the air like Jason Grace."

"TJ and I volunteer to help!" Cyrus says, the first thing he's spoken since my outburst at the house.

"Dude," I protest.

"You wanna prove you're not selfish? Here's the perfect test. There's something fun that you want to do, and there's something less fun people are doing for the greater good."

"You sound like Dumbledore," I grumble.

"Which do you choose?" he asks, but it's realllly obvious what he wants the answer to be. I'd love to not do it just to spite him, but that puts my spot here at risk.

As we clean up, people are all over the sky, laughing and having a good time. I look at Amber, "Hey, up there. Having fun, or does it maybe suck, probably?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it _fun_. It's like having your favorite food every day and never getting tired of it because it's your favorite, but better. How's volunteer garbage pickup?"

"About the same."

"Great!" she says, flying off.

I return to the sad job that is garbage pick up in paradise. At least it has no smell.

Andi comes to me, "Celia seems really stressed."

"Is she? She seems to be smiling."

"She says she's 'putting on a good face'. Jonah and I agreed we must help her."

"Jonah talks?"

"Not much, but he does. How's the cleanup?"

"Not bad," I say, seeing another gay couple helping each other, "Hey, Oliver! Hey, Kip!"

"Hey, TJ! Isn't this great?" Oliver asks.

"Sure is. When I thought of the afterlife, I totally pictured being an unpaid, non-flying janitor!"

"Us too!" Kip says.

"You guys are so fun. Like, relentlessly fun," I say, fully sarcastic, "I keep thinking, 'When are they going to stop being fun?' And the answer is Never. You're never going to stop."

They continue laughing, taking it in jest. Andi returns to wherever she was cleaning. About an hour later, I find Cyrus.

"So, I've had a pretty full day. Made some friends, my area is almost garbage free. So, you're going to help me figure out how to stay, right?"

"Well, that is a really tough question. Most great philosophers would say that you aren't going to change, that helping you is pointless, that you can't try to be good, especially when your motivations are selfish."

"Most great philosophers were homophobic and their studies reflected that. I don't think their opinions of me matter, especially if they're in the Bad Place. Yours does. I trust you know great philosophers who would judge well."

"Aristotle did think that virtue is something that you could get better at. He compared it to playing the flute, the more you practice, the more you improve."

"I don't know what his views are on the LGBTQ+ community, but he sounds like a guy to listen to."

"Well, I've narrowed it down to two possibilities. Yes...and no."

"Those are literally the only possibilities you have to choose from. But no worries. Just let me know when you're done weighing my afterlife resting place in your hands. I'll keep doing what I'm trying to do best."

I return to the area. I really wonder why Andi only wanted 12 people, since the areas are rather large. I've gotten the last of it in a bag, heading to the dumpster, when Bex calls out that there's five more minutes left for flyers.

Taking the opportunity, I stash the bag away and rush to the flying platform. Donning a jumpsuit, I turn to Bex, "Bex, I'm done with cleanup and I'm ready to fly. How do I start?"

"Hop onto the launch pad, and conjure an image that brings you pure joy."

"Like a memory for a Patronus?"

"Yes, but not exactly? It can be anything, not just a happy memory, or a happy feeling."

"Coming out and being accepted," I think, beginning to hover, "It's working!"

Some random thing hits my head, causing me to land, "Ow! What the fork?"

Thunder rumbles. There's a deluge of trash falling, and once again, it's my fault.

We rush to find Michael, who's just explained to Rachel that he accidentally kicked her dog into the sun and Andi's trying to console Celia. Everyone scatters so I end up running back to Cyrus.

"Cyrus! Before you say anything -"

"You somehow managed to cause this."

"I put away _one_ bag of trash, the last bag in fact, so that I could fly. Because it was the last five minutes."

"That's not a defense. You made a bad choice."

Oliver and Kip get excited about trash again, but a dumpster falls on them. They somehow pop up inside the dumpster, "We're okay!"

"Come on, I mean even you have to admit, those guys are psycho."

The storm eventually calms, and Cyrus returns to his home. I can't believe that one bag caused this. But maybe it was a bad choice.

"Hey, Bex?"

"Yes, TJ?"

"Did Dean Taylor end up in the Bad Place?"

"He did. He's being punished for every single bad thing he did," she says. Though she clearly isn't designed to be emotional, her eyes seem to have an almost soft look answering that question.

"Thank you, Bex. That's all I needed."

She bings away.

Maybe my past defines who I was, but if I want to be a good person, I need to let go of Dean Taylor. He's in the Bad Place and that's what matters.

I spend the next few hours cleaning up every debris I can find, Bex helping me with trash bags and maneuvering heavier items. I'm cleaning up around a brickstone apartment building when Cyrus walks out, "Hey, how did you know I was here?"

"I saw you from my window. I live here. Not that you ever asked," he says, pointing to a window I can only imagine as a European window, "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning up. I decided that the Dean wasn't going to define my views on philosophy anymore. So I went to all the places where trash fell, including where I stashed the last trash bag, and cleaned up."

"Well it looks like you cleaned up...everything. You're doing this because you feel bad. And you're not even doing it to get me to help you anymore."

"Seems like you already know the answers."

"Maybe I want to hear it from you."

"Okay, yeah, fine. I did feel bad. I felt bad for Leo and Kip and Celia for causing her this stress. And I felt bad for the whole neighborhood. Everyone should've been able to fly."

"Feeling remorse about being wrong isn't as good as doing something write, but it is a start. Look, I think you are capable of change. And I will help you try."

"Oh, wow, man. I won't let you down."

"You might, and that's okay. I let you down today too. It's natural. I promise I'll remember your love for baseball."

"And I promise to remember to tell you all the details I know or deduce about you, deep or surface."

The next morning, I walk out of the diner with coffee cups for Cyrus and I. I don't know if his lactose intolerance carried over in death, but he clearly prefers almond milk for mornings, so that's what I got.

"Ah, TJ. Good morning."

"Celia. Do you know what the best part about this place is? You figure out how to make a to-go cup that _doesn't leak_ right where the seem meets the lid."

"Oh, I'm so glad you noticed. I'm very proud about that. One of the hardest problems I had to solve. Anyways, TJ, I know what you did."

I try to keep my face neutral, "Cleaning up the entire neighborhood by yourself. I knew you were special, but..."

"Well, I was just doing my part, you know, and um, since I'm special, your words, I didn't get to fly. When is the next fly event?"

"Oh, right, I'm sorry. I had to ban flying for 1000 years. Too many injuries. One resident hit a rotting turkey carcass at 1000 mph."

"Wait, does the Good Place automatically convert to metric if you're not from America?" I say, cutting her off before she goes into a graphic description.

"Yes. It's like the language filter. I'm actually using kilo-Jearimy's, which is the afterlife unit of speed. Anyway. Enjoy your coffee, and cup."

Cyrus is home by the time I get there, things already unpacked, "So. I've officially moved out of my apartment. Figured it would cause less suspicion."

"Good idea," I nod.

"Now, you've got a long way to go before you can pull this off. It'll take hours and hours of ethical and moral philosophy study. We're going to figure out where you are in terms of retention and work from there."

I take a book that looks unfamiliar when Cyrus goes to the bathroom and just before I open it, I see a note slid under the door. I quickly rush over to see what it says.

_You don't belong here._

I walk outside to see if there was anyone who could have dropped it off, but nothing.

"Ah, shirt."


End file.
